Thai Girl (33 page)

‘That's what I'm asking.'

‘Man sit with lady, sing karaoke, pay bar, go hotel together.'

‘What! Even in a small town like this? They use our hotel for sex?'

‘Maybe they do.'

‘God, so people seeing you with me think you're one of them?'

‘Yes. No good for me,' she said solemnly.

That night alone in his double bed, the room took on a new meaning for Ben. It was just a cheap knocking shop across the road from the karaoke bar. What struck him most forcibly was that the sex industry inevitably stigmatised Thai women who like Fon, knew how to behave. Just by being seen with a foreigner, she would inevitably be taken for a whore.

25

Other than the shenanigans with Fon at the hotel later that night, the trip to the waterfall was the most memorable event of Ben's last full day in the North East. As it was very hot, Fon had arranged for a pick-up to take the three of them to a waterfall to eat, swim and cool down. Jinda had the only swimming costume, so Fon took with her the length of green cloth she used as a sarong just in case she could not resist going in.

There was confusion when the driver was unsure of the route and they found themselves bumping down remote tracks, asking village people where the best place for swimming was. When eventually they arrived at a waterfall that seemed to satisfy the two sisters, they piled out of the pickup.

It was a weekday and the food and nick-nack stalls were almost totally deserted. Though still only mid-morning, Fon and Jinda went over to one of the food stalls and spent ages talking intently with the woman in charge. They then all walked on down the track and came to the river above the falls. The waterfall itself was not much more than a series of rapids but had formed a pool deep enough to swim in. It was unspoiled and intimate and they had it entirely to themselves.

Ben hardly managed to keep up with the girls as they scrambled across the rocks towards the pool. He watched them nimbly crossing a tree trunk over a drop to the shingle beach below and followed with some trepidation, trying not to look down.

On seeing the water, Fon was now determined to swim and ordered Ben to turn the other way while she changed under the trees. When he was allowed to look round, he gazed in adoration as she stood there, her eyes shining at him, gift wrapped in his all-time favourite, a sarong. Both for aesthetics and accessibility he could think of nothing more seductive than a sarong, loosely tucked in above the bust and likely to fall off at any moment. The fantasy was even more distracting as there was no pantyline visible through the tight fabric; he had no idea what if anything she was wearing underneath.

Without wasting time, the two girls plunged into the water and started splashing around, shrieking like kids. Already in swimming shorts, Ben slipped off his tee shirt and went in after them. Fon was in flirtatious mood but was keeping her distance, playing with Jinda, while Ben shamelessly showed off his crawl and jumped from the rocks into the pool. He longed for a watery wrestle but as always it was one long waiting game.

As he floated lazily on his back, he saw a boy coming down the path towards them carrying a basket.

‘Who's this?' he asked Fon.

‘Bring food.'

‘Is it for us?'

‘Special fish for you, Ben,' she said.

And for Ben it was the best, not just the food but everything that went with it; the tropical heat, the sounds of the river and jungle and most of all because he was with Fon.

The boy laid out the dishes on the rocks next to the water, the dappled light falling through the trees, a feast of freshly cooked food produced as if from nowhere. Squatting next to Ben, Fon ate hungrily, her knees held tightly together by the sarong, which against all odds stayed wrapped around her. He was captivated, her body golden and glistening, the wet cloth clinging to every contour.

When they had finished eating, they sat under the trees for a time before Jinda went back in the water, followed closely by Fon. Ben did not want to go in again so soon as his shorts were now dry and because of the half hour rule about not swimming after a big meal. But Fon had other ideas and called to him from the pool.

‘Ben, why you not swim? Come swim with me, Ben.'

‘Not yet, I'm too full,' he shouted back.

Fon said nothing in reply but standing in the middle of the pool, the water up to her waist, she turned away towards the waterfall and very deliberately untucked her sarong. Looking back at Ben over one shoulder and with the sarong in both hands, like a cormorant drying its wings, she stretched it out at arms length behind her back, revealing her body to the rocks across the pool. Screened as she was by the sarong, Ben had no idea if she was decent in strapless bra and pants or totally naked.

‘Ben, swim with me … swim with me now,' came her siren call.

Ben needed no further bidding. He bounded across the rocks and within seconds was swimming towards her as she hastily refastened the sarong and plunged further into the pool. There then followed an energetic chase punctuated with squeals when he learned how difficult it is to keep hold of a determined and slippery woman in deep water. When Fon finally escaped him and hid behind her sister, his blood was up, his hopes very much aroused.

On the way home in the back of the pick-up, Jinda was tired and lay on her back full length on the seat. Sitting behind Ben on the other seat, Fon settled snugly against him without a word and rested her head on his lap. She was at risk of rolling off the narrow seat and the sun was falling across her face so he tried to make her comfortable, supporting her with his arm and shielding her eyes with his towel. It was an intimate moment as if between old friends and he was now longing for more.

When they got back to the village, wind-blown and weary, Fon went to make a telephone call before talking at length with Jinda and their mother.

‘That all sounded a bit serious,' said Ben when they had finished.

‘Jinda go back Koh Samet,' said Fon without explanation.

‘When? What for?'

‘Now, tonight,' she said.

Ben never learned why Jinda had to leave so soon, but that was not his first concern. More important, he and Fon were to be left alone together. Maybe now, at last, he was in with a chance.

‘So what are we going to do tonight?' he asked her.

‘Stay hotel. Jinda go bus Rayong,' said Fon.

‘One room or two?' screamed Ben silently, his mouth tightly shut.

Early that evening, Jinda said goodbye to her mother and they waited beside the road for the bus into town. Back at the hotel, Ben sat with the sisters in their room while Jinda started packing her bag. He tried asking Fon what bus Jinda was going to catch but he did not get a clear answer. They then went to the market and ate at a noodle stall in the street before returning to the hotel.

Time drifted on and Jinda went into the washroom to take a shower, leaving Ben and Fon together, listening to the noise of sluicing water. Utterly frustrated by the long stand-off, it was now at last time for him to make his move. Quietly he sidled up behind Fon, slipped his arms round her neat little waist and held her tightly to him. There was a sharp intake of breath.

‘No Ben, not here,' she protested in a low voice, pulling away and motioning frantically that Jinda could hear them. He reluctantly let her go but felt cheated when, flashing a grin, she threw herself full-length across the bed, her legs spread wide apart. Unable to resist the tightly rounded back pockets of her jeans, he gave chase, leaping onto the bed and pinning her down with all his weight. Astonished she was so strong as she struggled to escape, he was enjoying a sensuous wrestle when the sounds of showering suddenly stopped.

‘Ben, Jinda finish already … can hear us,' hissed Fon breathlessly, rolling out from under him just in time.

When Jinda came out of the shower, she glanced round with amusement at the flushed faces and bright eyes; it was obvious what had been going on. For Ben it had been a tantalising little taster, but it was all over far too quickly.

As Jinda was dressing and doing her make-up, he had a moment of panic; Fon was stuffing her clothes into her bag.

‘Whatever are you doing?' he asked her.

‘Doing my bag,' she said.

‘You're not going too?'

‘No … put bag in your room. When Jinda go, one room enough.'

Once again trumpets sounded in Ben's head. With Jinda gone, could this be it, sharing a room with Fon? He made sure his tongue wasn't hanging out and tried to keep calm.

When Fon had left her things on his bed, the two girls paid for their room and they all sauntered out into the street. A short way towards the bus station they parted, Jinda giving them a little wave as if polishing a plate glass window. As she disappeared in the direction of the bus depot, Fon turned and strode purposefully across the road towards an internet shop.

‘Go internet,' she said, as she opened the door and went inside.

‘Whatever for?' asked Ben in surprise.

‘Video games,' she replied, sitting down at one of the few computers not surrounded by a huddle of small boys.

Ben liked the thought of air conditioning but not of video games. To his dismay, Fon was an addict and sat and played happily for ages. Eventually she began to lose interest.

‘We go sing-a-song. You like?' she asked him.

‘Go where?'

‘Sing-a-song,' she said. It could not be karaoke as they had done that already, so Ben guessed it must be some kind of nightclub. It would be fun to see a local club, though he did not want to be out late that night as he had other things on his mind.

They left the internet shop and went outside onto the dark streets of the town. Around the corner some old men in baggy shorts were huddled half asleep on the cramped back seat of their
samlors,
old-fashioned tricycles one evolutionary step up from the rickshaw. Fon and Ben climbed into one of them and they slowly moved off, sinewy brown legs laboriously turning the pedals. Down the next street they gathered speed and soon reached the other side of town where they were dropped in an unpaved car park outside a low building. Loud music was coming from a shabby looking nightclub decorated with strings of twinkling white light bulbs.

A hostess led them into the dimly lit club, half bar, half auditorium, capable of seating perhaps a hundred people. It was almost empty except for a few customers sitting at tables and tarty-looking hostesses hovering in corners. Three girls on stage were making love to a microphone, singing loudly to the empty room.

‘God, they look awful,' said Ben as he sat down and ordered drinks.

‘You no like? Not sexy?'

‘No, I do not like … they're gross.'

The singers were young and fleshy, their faces powdered to an artificial pallor. They wore short frilly skirts in reds and purples and cream tights which Ben thought deprived their legs of any allure.

When some men wandered in, he noticed that one of them came down from the stage and sat chatting at their table. Then he realised that the only women in the place were singers or hostesses.

‘Fon, what is this place?' he asked her abruptly.

‘Sing-a-song.'

‘Yes, I know it's sing-a-song. They sell beer and sing … but what else?'

‘What you think?'

‘You mean they sell sex?'

‘Go together, hotel,' said Fon looking down at her feet.

‘Christ almighty. Do Thai men all do this?'

‘Don't you, Ben?' she said with half a smile.

‘Fon, please! No I do not.'

‘Never?' she probed playfully. ‘Never have sex?'

‘With someone I love who feels the same for me, yes of course. But taking a woman for money … not in a million years.'

It was getting late when they headed back to the hotel, squeezed cosily into the back of the
samlor,
Ben with his arm around Fon. Passing the hotel reception desk, he now understood how she must feel about the knowing look the girls gave them as they went to his room. Following her inside and closing the door behind them, he tried not to feel too triumphal.

But once in the room, Ben thought Fon seemed tired and subdued. She did not immediately fall into his arms but rummaged distractedly in her bag, then went into the washroom to brush her teeth, as if playing for time. When she came out again, she said nothing and went and sat on the bed as far as possible from him, her eyes down. Before he could say anything, she looked up, her face severe and unsmiling.

‘Okay Ben, I go now,' she said. ‘Go back Mama's house.'

Ben was devastated.

‘Why Fon? But what about me?' he blurted out in dismay.

‘You stay here … hotel better.'

‘No Fon, please! I'm not going to be left on my own …'

‘Small town … everyone see me here,' she cut in. ‘Men come hotel, bring girl … but not same me. Cannot stay room with you!'

Ben's jaw fell open but no words came. Distressed and angry, he did not know whether to plead or cajole. But her claim to respectability was unanswerable and he quickly realised that trying to make her change her mind would be futile and unfair. He watched aghast and could do nothing to stop her when she got up, strode to the door and made a quick getaway.

As the door slammed behind her, he sat down on the bed in a state of shock. Within seconds his great expectations had turned to total farce. But now Fon had gone and all he could do was to lick his wounds and try to sleep.

In the shower he began to ask himself what he was doing here anyway, alone in a small town miles from anywhere stuck in this grotty hotel. The place made his flesh creep, it was so seedy. The washroom door refused to shut as it was rotten, a leaking pipe had made the wall mouldy and everything smelt damp and disgusting. Coming out of the shower again he banged his head on the low concrete lintel, but that was not what hurt most of all.

Sleep proved impossible and he lay face down on the greying bed sheet before trying to read in the feeble light of the bedside lamp. After he had been reading for some time, half falling asleep, he was startled by a loud banging on the door. Now wide awake, he jumped off the bed and threw the door open. To his astonishment, Fon pushed past him into the room, her face dark and furious as he had never seen it before.